


Perception

by hoamstuck



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, gaygaygay, im honestly at a loss for how to tag, this is a long fic prepare yourselves, this is my first i tried
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoamstuck/pseuds/hoamstuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've always been one to focus far too heavily on the details.  But tonight you'll try not to feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the hum in your skin where both your arms lay side by side, or the barely audible breaths leaving his mouth.  You won't dwell on how easy it would be to close the small distance between you two and kiss him, confess.  Tonight you won't stress over how hopeless you are for Jake English and how hopeless it is to think you two will ever be anything other than best bros.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic wahoo, I hope who ever reads this enjoys? So yeah, I'll try and make it not confusing. Fair warning: It only gets gayer from here.

You've always been one to focus far too heavily on the details. How many pieces of pepperoni are on your slice of pizza, the subtle frays at the end of your shoe laces, the exact time frame in which your bus arrives every morning to take you to school. You are a man of numbers, percentages, and data. Be it qualitative or quantitative, details are observed and processed 24/7 in the mind of Dirk Strider. To say you're analytical is an understatement. Usually, it comes in handy- you're almost always the smartest person in the room and you're three steps ahead of everyone: always.  


But as you take in the soft glow of his skin, the heat radiating off his body, the enticing smell and trusting demeanor that is everything him, you wish you weren't a walking microscope. He's everything you've fallen for in a span of seven years and everything you'd be more than willing to sacrifice yourself to. The moment he turns his head to meet your gaze, you rue your perceptive skills. The deep, lively green irises of his eyes show you everything you've ever wanted and the slight shone of the moon off his wide grin shows you everything you can never have.  


"Tonight's been grade A," he comments thoughtfully, both breaking your trance and adding to it. "I truly enjoyed myself."  


Clearing your throat, you reply, "Glad you feel that way." That's all you're willing to release on how you feel at the moment.  


"Glad I have a chum such as yourself," his smile widens. "I wouldn't have rather spent an evening as special as this with anyone else but you."  
You push aside any possible deep meanings behind that statement. Unlike you, he's blunt, straightforward. He just had a great time with his best friend. Plain and simple.  


"Likewise, English," you return, thanking your shades for the cover they provide. There's so much more you want to say, you're eyes will give that away but you never will.  


A sudden sadness washes over his features, just the slightest hue of blue, as if he knows you aren't done speaking. But you turn your vision back toward the sky, and eventually, so does he. And just like that the moment's gone.  


You've always been one to focus far too heavily on the details. But tonight you'll try not to feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the hum in your skin where both your arms lay side by side, or the barely audible breaths leaving his mouth. You won't dwell on how easy it would be to close the small distance between you two and kiss him, confess. Tonight you won't stress over how hopeless you are for Jake English and how hopeless it is to think you two will ever be anything other than best bros.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk Strider, now in the 6th grade, befriends a green-eyed new student. This newbie, Jake English, becomes Dirk's best friend as well as (eventually) the reason he wants to cease existing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I HAVEN'T POSTED IN A WHILE.
> 
> I had a ton of things to do, plus a vacation, and now I have a job- but, this WILL be continued!
> 
> Not much of the relationship here: mostly characterization and introductions.

Compared to other eleven year olds, you have to admit: you were pretty bad ass. Cool as ice, sharp as a sword, and as mysterious as the school meat loaf. Sure you had that awkward lank of a prepubescent, friendless sixth grader- but you also had swag. And let's be real, the only reason you were, "Lackin' in the friend department," is because you were, "Packin' in the meat isle," to quote your, rad as hell big bro. 

Your lil mind sure thought it was true. It definitely wasn't due to your cold demeanor or intimidating stare. Plus, who needed friends? You had enough. There was Rox- hella fun. Jane packed at least ten cookies for lunch everyday which was pretty sweet (literally). And then you frequented talking to yourself. And honestly, no one's as kick ass as yourself. 

Compiling all these conclusions together, you came to the end result that the first week of middle school hadn't been too painful. You didn't color as much. But who needs that pansy crayola shit? You had bigger and better plans. Like pre-algebra. Ain't no fuckin' joke, son.

The kids acted just like fithies except they smelled worse. Your Bro blamed it on 'puberty' and you're real glad he introduced you to deodorant the year earlier. Especially with the Texan heat, a man's gotta stay fresh. The teachers were alright, a few real dick mongrels and a few real pushovers. But aside from that, the work was almost too easy.  
First period on your second Monday in shitdle school, you were working on the easiest math worksheet in the seeming world. As per usual, your desk in the last row was partnerless. A lone ranger, you sat solo. The way you liked it. 

Attention focused on the multiplication in front of you, you only looked up out of curiosity when the door closed with a light crack. Being the little shits you were, all the other sixies in the room had their heads raised as well.

Your joined object of inspection was a rather tan guy, few inches shorter than you were, dark brown hair and rectangular glasses. Clad in cargo shorts, a few inches short of the style, and an army green plain tee, he shuffled awkwardly. You couldn't help but notice the slight protruding of his front teeth from his bottom lip as he grinned sheepishly. Swallowing once before stepping quickly over to the teacher's desk, he was equipped with a note and large, green backpack. Taking the slip, the teacher nodded before standing. Predictably, the new student was introduced. 

"Alright class, as you can see, we've got ourselves a late year starter," the newbie blushed. "His name is Jake and I hope you'll all make him feel as welcome as possible." She then consulted him briefly before pointing to the desk to my left and handing him our assignment. He glanced at you skeptically, not to blame- your anime shades could be off-putting. Especially indoors. At school. But in an effort to prevent you from being subjected to teases tossed towards your abnormal eye color, your Bro was kind enough to get a doctor's note for 'Corneal Sensitivity.' No complaints though, the shades were gnarly as hell.

You stare back at the kid, Jake, with no hospitality. You had no malicious intent, but being openly warm and welcoming wasn't a personal trait of yours. You tilted your head downwards slightly, so that to all others it seemed as if you were working, when really, your hidden eyes followed the newdweeb. He kept his eyes on you as well as he nodded to the teacher and ventured over to the vacant seat. His seat. 

Once he sat down, you could tell he was trying to make eye contact with you from the side- but you weren't having it. Maybe he was trying to make a friend and work up the nerve to talk to a classmate, maybe he was even trying to copy your answers, but nonetheless, a few minutes into his struggle for eye contact, he gave up. The duration of class was spent finishing the assignment and working on it at home if you hadn't finished. Jack, Jake?, whatever his name was, hadn't answered a single question. It was too easy to notice his obvious doodlings. Peeking over at his sheet inconspicuously, you caught a glimpse at his decent sketch of a rifle. You were more of a sword guy, but any solid weaponry you can appreciate.

Uneventfully, class ends with the ringing of the bell and you take your time in leaving the class. So does the new kid. He was no longer staring at you, at least. More or less scrutinizing his schedule and fumbling with the school map, a determined furrow in his brow and anxious gnawing on his lip. Maybe you ate something weird that day, or maybe it was something about the genuine essence he had, but you suddenly felt generous. Stepping around your desk, one back pack strap on a shoulder, you swiftly appeared beside him.

"Lost?" You quirked an eyebrow. Obviously startled, Jake adjusted his glasses and gave you an embarrassed smile. He looked up, directly into your own eyes and you were struck with how purely green they were. For a moment, you were jealous. 

"Not quite yet, but it seems that's where I'm headed," he gave a small breathy laugh towards the end. This was the first time you'd ever heard him speak. Being approximately eleven years old and likely pre-pubescent, his voice was hardly breath takingly stud-like. But his accent was a throw back. A peculiar mix of Australian and British, it had a certain rough elegance. 

"Where you going next?"

"Hm... Mrs. Bringley, Room 107D, Language Arts," he informed, looking down at his paper, a squint in his eyes. Weird, same class you had. How convenient. You began to walk away, meaning for him to follow, but of course, you'd come to learn he could be a bit ignorant. You turned when you felt no presence behind you, only to find Jake worrying his lip once again and looking at the floor nervously. Call you crazy, but even back then something about that god damn puppy face got to you.  
"Hey," you called, in response he looked up at you shyly. "You coming or what?" Almost immediately a grin spread across his face as he slung his large bag onto his back, half skipping- half galloping over to you at the door.

You proceeded to your next class with Jake in tow, and found out along the way that you two shared one last class together, right after lunch. At this revelation he grinned in relief, you suppressed a smirk from his obvious satisfaction. Lunch that first day consisted of you spotting him skittering around the lunch room, looking almost painfully shy. 

You knew you owed him nothing. You knew he was only a fellow classmate. But that sudden surge of protectiveness washed over you once again as you walked to his anxious figure and nudged him. He flinched aggressively, nearly smacking you in the process as he warily turned. Realizing who it was, his tense composure melted as a smile crept across his face. You remember liking his large teeth right off the bat. They obnoxiously protruded outwards and were almost constantly noticeable, yet perfectly fit him.

"Gadzooks, you startled me!" he raised a dramatic, paper bag clad hand to his chest.

"Gotta place to eat?" you inquired, uncharacteristically friendly. 

"Well," he fidgeted, "Not particularly?" With a slight beckoning from your hand, you instructed him to follow you to your usual table. Roxy and Jane had already taken their usual seats you noticed as you lead Jake over. They'd been giggling to themselves, Jane with a polite hand over her mouth, Roxy holding in her juice, in danger of a sick nasty spit take as you reached them.

You promptly sat across from the two girls, like normal, and nonchalantly patted the empty seat to your right for Jake to take. He slowly did, finally getting the idea that, yes, he could eat lunch with you. Roxy swallowed her fluids and looked over Jake. 

"New friend, D?" She asked with her (at the time) clear, high voice. She smiled at him brightly, squinted eyes and all, while extending a dainty hand. She sat across from him and nodded her head; he took her hand to shake. "I'm Roxy," she stated clearly, shaking enthusiastically. 

"Jake!" He projected with as much sparkle as Rox had. Retrieving his hand back, he looked at Jane as she cleared her throat quietly. 

"Jane Crocker, I think we have science together," she gave him a small smile. 

"I believe we do," nodding politely he grinned warmly. And just like that, Jake had soon assimilated himself into our group. From that day on he ate with us, laughed with us, and as a whole seemed to become a part of the crew in himself. After lunch, you and Jake walked to your shared class, talking little before you arrived, but he confidently sat next to you in class. The next hour consisted of you whispering snarks bashing the teacher into his ear and him attempting to conceal his snorts and giggles. 

Yeah. Middle school wasn't too bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me how I'm doing! I'd love to hear how I can improve/what you are or aren't liking!


	3. And So It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys, now twelve, have their first sleepover. 
> 
> Jake cries and Dirk comes to a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I'm looking for criticism here, guys, compliments and comments are welcomed too (y e s)! But don't hold back, I'd love feedback!
> 
> This is 4 pages and about 2,000 words of 12 year olds.

"Avatar! It must be Avatar, oh please, Dirk?" Jake kneeled on your couch, hands dramatically clasped together, as if in prayer, his large eyes amplified by the lenses of his glasses. 

"Whoa there, no need to beg, J," you informed. Tonight was the night of all nights. A grandiose night in the summer of sixth grade going into seventh. A night currently consisting of you guys sitting next to each other casually in your apartment. You and Jake's first official sleep over. 

At the moment, you two had been debating what movie to watch in the traditional Movie Marathon portion of the Epic Slumber Party. After eating your hearty dinner of pizza, chips and soda, you'd already turned down several of his first picks which included The Mummy (all of them), National Treasure (all of them), and several other exploration filled action flicks. But, being best bros for just short of a full year, you were already aware of his boner for adventures. 

Jake waggled his eyebrows at you ridiculously, "So, Neytiri got to you too?" Oh, and he also had a literal boner for blue chicks. Thankfully for you, his kinks mellowed out with age. 

"No. But there are some rad horses," you pointed out and he nodded appreciatively as you set up the movie, burying his already butter-slicked hand into the large bowl of popcorn on his lap. You asked him to turn the lights off, to which he did obediently, a slight skip in his step- like always- before returning to the couch. 

Your shades remained in place, even when the room was engulfed in darkness, aside from the large flat screen illuminating the walls. The brunette turned to you, gesturing to his glasses with a tap, obviously referring to yours, and raising an eyebrow- you understood. With a dismissive wave, you turned back towards the screen. Brushing it off himself, Jake shrugged, returning to his favorite film. 

Despite Jake being your best bro, you weren't ready to exploit yourself in the way that removing your shades would allow. They left you open to be read- and humiliated. You were sure Jake would never tease you, but with eyes as gorgeous as his, you wouldn't put it past him if he did.

You guys had been all alone that night- with a short phone call exchanged between your Bro and Jake's granny, the two guardians decided you could take care of yourselves just fine, not like two twelve year olds could manage much damage in the first place. It was pretty norm for you anyways. 

Bro was always busy being a cool ass/huge director/producer/writer/big shot/neglective guardian or whatever the hell his title was now-a-days. You couldn't complain though. He gave you what you needed. Or what he thought you needed. A modest sized apartment, nothing too large and flashy from the outside, filled with the nicest and newest things. Before you started middle school he even hired a ''house keeper'' ("You mean a freakin' nanny, Bro?") to "keep you company". But once he decided you were old enough, aka eleven fucking years old, he left you alone. Aside from the rare, brief conversations you held with him over the phone. Emphasis on the rare and brief.

But, hey, you were mature and it wasn't that hard to order pizza, ain't rocket science. You had a credit card with enough money to buy what you needed ten-fold. Plus, you had a shit ton of toys and gadgets to keep you busy, along with the latest technology to assist you in tinkering with your beloved AIs. Talking to a computer was most definitely not the same as talking to your Bro. But your skills were getting better everyday, and eventually your robots became more like family than he did. That's a large reason you started making the damn things anyways. 

But enough of your Bro-Daddy issues, he wasn't even there that night. That night. A night so dear and special, because as fucking cheesy as it sounds, it was the very night your spiral into Jake English began. 

You'd seen this movie maybe three times, but it was one that was tiring to rewatch even once, although you had a feeling Jake had seen it thirty times your viewings. Looking over at him, the sight was almost comical. His jaw unconsciously chewed a large helping of popped kernels, his left hand already preparing to shove more into his mouth. His eyes were glazed over, moving back and forth across the screen animatedly, wildly. Every once in a while he would break into a wicked grin at a particularly favorite scene of his (a.k.a. the whole fucking three houred flick), or his lips would imitate the actors lines- either precisely on time, or even a bit earlier, as if he knew the lines better than the characters themselves. The best part was whenever the main character's name, Jake, was mentioned, Your Jake would get this smug look on his face, eyes crinkling ecstatically. 

He was absolutely engulfed in the movie.

And you were equally transfixed. With him.

You remember telling yourself to cut that creepy staring shit out, but Jake wouldn't have noticed anyways: 1. Because of your shades, 2. Because his attention might as well have been literally glued to the T.V. He was just so mesmerizing like that, completely absorbed in something he loved- his passion for a simple film made your chest tighten excitedly for unknown reasons. Licking your lips you forced yourself to watch the shitastic film, because, wow this dude was your first best friend and you'd hate to lose him by indulging in your own sketchy-ass starathon.

By the time you looked at the actual movie, the awkward-alien-sex-thing was going down, and English... Well he had this dumb look of... not of longing, but of contentment. He liked the romantic aspect of the film, he was glad they were hooking up in the freakiest of ways. Well that was just the fucking cutest thing ever; Jake Jake wasn't jealous of Movie Jake for fondling the blue babe, he was just enjoying the happy moment on screen. And shit, you found yourself watching him again, that same small ass smile plastered to your face.

"I need a drink," you announced, standing (and completely ignoring your half full bottle of orange soda on the table); Jake all but mumbled incoherently in response, far too infatuated with the steamy animation in front of him. Rolling your eyes you walked to the bathroom adjacent to your room, flicking the lights on, and closing the door softly behind you. Bracing both hands on the side of the sink, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. "Stop staring at him," you whispered to your image, brow furrowed deeply. You were even starting to weird yourself out- He was watching a fuckin' movie for Christ's sake! And you guys were what? Twelve? And he was most definitely a dude. No reason for you to be checking him out like it was an occupation. Although you wouldn't mind that career...

No. No, what the fuck, Dirk. You couldn't watch your best bro for income, that's not even a real job. But you couldn't help the small tug in your heart that wished it was. Plus, money or not, staring him down was incredibly weird. You internally agreed to stop. 

You left the bathroom a determined man. You sat the on couch, looking at the screen but not seeing it, a struggling man. But as the resolution of the movie began, and the sniffles at your side kicked in as well, you broke down. Turning to the tan being beside you, separated by nothing but an empty popcorn bowl, you saw one of the worst things in your life. Jake sat, knees tucked to his chest, eyes quivering with water before spilling over his thick lashes, painting his cheeks with a distasteful moisture. You hated when he cried. Fuck, you still do. And at the moment, that first moment you saw tears stream down his face, you were struck with a paralyzing fear. How are you supposed to comfort someone?

The terrain of Pandora was being destroyed on the screen. And Jake was dying. Your Jake might've been too. He cringed at the destruction, tapped his bare foot against your couch impatiently as Neytiri rushed to save her love's life. He had seen this movie before right? Of course he had, he referenced it weekly. But the raw emotion on his face tore you apart, you barely noticed the movie was finally ending until there was the slightest, most valuable, change in Jake's face. He continued to cry, but this time, he had a tiny smile strewn across his lips, it soothed your bones, settling them down. A minute or two later, you saw the reflection of the credits roll by in his spectacles. He turned to you, bleary eyed, wiping snot away with his wrist. 

"Awfully sorry, mate. Egad, I must look like such a lollygag! Such a gentleman I am, sobbing my very eyes out on my host's sofa," he blubbered out, scrubbing at his eyes with fists to dry all remaining moisture. You were speechless. Instead, working purely on instinct, you removed the bowl from between the pair of you, setting it on the table before scooting closer to him. Draping an arm around his shoulder in attempted comfort, he leaned into you platonically, sniffling one last time. Your heart yearned for something for the first time in your life.

"Lovely movie, isn't it?" 

"Sure is, English."

 

~~~

The remainder of the night consisted of snacking of left over cold pizza, playing a shit ton of video games, and making J laugh so hard that whatever beverage he had been drinking trickled out of his nose. Twice. It was quite the accomplishment. So far, aside from the lil' tear shedding on Jake's part, the night had been one of the best in your life. But you both knew that once your arms went slack, too lazy to fight over the remote anymore, that it was time to go to bed.

"Dirk, wowies, it's 3:57 am already, are you certain we're still alive?" Yep, definitely time to hit the sack. Dragging yourselves into your room, after ''tidying yourselves up!'' (Jake's version of putting P.J.s on and brushing your teeth), you both practically collapsed onto your full-sized bed. At the time, you comfortably fit with Jake by your side. "Am I to sleep here?" he asked, although he was already slipping under the covers and sliding his glasses off. Always such a lil' shit. 

"Didn't have any other accommodations, sir," you scoffed taking his glasses and placing them on your night stand. "But I don't think you'll mind." He hummed in response, eyes already shut, head resting angelically on the pillow. From the foot of the bed, looking forward, Jake laid on the right side, against the wall, and you comforted yourself on the left. His eyes already being shut, you felt safe enough to remove your shades, it was so dark your eye color would be hidden anyways. In precaution you faced away from him anyways. 

"Dirk?" He spoke up quietly, you turned back to face him, his eyes now open, teeth boring into a soft lower lip.

"Hm?"

"There aren't any pictures of your parent's around here," he approached the subject nervously. He noticed. "Or any photographs really." Observant in the worst of ways.

"I know," you attempted not to sound guarded. 

"Where are they?" 

You shrugged honestly. "Dunno'."

"Oh." And things fell quiet between the two of you, to a point where you regretted telling him. You should've just feigned slumber. Yours eyes slipped shut, blocking out his empathetic gaze. He mumbled something softly, causing you to reopen your eyes curiously, although preparing yourself for a predictable 'I'm sorry.' Instead you heard...

"Me too." 

"What?" Your eyebrows raised slightly, but he just patted your hand that rested in between your bodies. The brunette closed his eyes slowly, baring a minuscule grin. His hand remained lightly atop yours; sleep overcame him.

Him too. He understood. The first person to ever understand.

He sobbed in Avatar and confessed to mutually being parentless and... And you liked him. From that moment on you truly, undoubtedly, maybe even foolishly liked him.

A smile identical to Jake's was placed on your face. A slight twitching in his fingers was the last thing you registered before you fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not kidding, this is my first fic I want to know how I can improve!
> 
> Thank you to each and every reader.

**Author's Note:**

> did u lyk it


End file.
